


we wrote a story in the fog on the windows that night

by trashmage



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5135561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmage/pseuds/trashmage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short fics written for various prompts, all Anders-centric. Unconnected unless stated otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Diamond - Hawke/Anders

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be doing a drabble-a-day [trying for two today, as I missed yesterday] sort of thing, as part of a mini NaNoWriMo challenge. Tags/characters/warnings/rating/etc. will be updated as needed.
> 
> Title taken from the lyrics of Halsey's 'Strange Love'.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **1\. Diamond**
> 
> _A proposal._

"It's a diamond."

Hawke just sounds so _matter-of-fact_ , so casual, as if he isn’t really holding out a ring to Anders. A gold ring, with a small but brilliant diamond set into the fine metal band.

"Yes, I-- I can _see_ that, Garrett," Anders very nearly sputters. The late afternoon sun bears down on them, heating the sand beneath their feet, and birds cry out and swoop along the shoreline; he doesn’t notice any of it. His gaze and all his focus-- everything has narrowed down to Hawke and locked on, the rest of the world on temporarily ceasing to exist around them. He doesn’t want to ask - shouldn’t _need_ to ask, because this just can’t be his life - but the question spills out anyway; "Why are you showing it to _me_?"

"Well, I was hoping it would blind you," is the immediate response, and while Hawke's lips (perfect, _gorgeous_ lips that Anders wants to kiss now more than ever) split into his trademark bullshitting grin through his beard, his eyes lose a little of their certainty. He takes a small step closer, and Anders struggles to ignore the fight-or-flight instinct that tells him to step back. "Anders, isn’t it _obvious_?"

"No," Anders tells him. In his head, a litany of _Yes, yes, yes it is._

"No, it's not obvious, or... no, you won’t marry me?"

Anders nearly chokes. " _Yes_."

Now Hawke laughs, and rather loudly at that. The set of his shoulders relaxes some, as if he somehow knows now exactly what Anders is thinking, when Anders himself isn’t so sure he really knows yet. "Yes to which, love?"

"I--" He pauses, blinks, and he's fully expecting to wake up at any moment now. To find himself back in Hawke's bed, or worse yet, alone on a hard cot in his clinic. But he waits, and wakefulness never comes; only Hawke, continuing to watch him expectantly, and Anders remembers that _he's_ waiting, too.

He swallows thickly and feels himself smile, small but genuine, and as the smile grows he sees the expression reflected back at him on Hawke's face. This time, all Anders needs to say is "Yes," again, and suddenly Hawke's arms are around him and he's being lifted, spun around once, and he barely has time to breathe when Hawke's mouth is on his own the instant his feet reunite with solid ground.

It's a short kiss, but deep and heartfelt, and both are breathing just a little harder than normal when they part. Anders watches in awe as Hawke takes his hand and slips the ring onto his finger, a perfect fit, and if he still feels a little like he's dreaming, well, at least he's no longer afraid that he'll wake up.

"Garrett..." he says sweetly, a thought occurring to him, and he feels more than sees the way his lover tenses, just slightly. Anders' eyes are still locked onto the ring, glinting in the sunlight, and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "Did you drag me all the way out here just to propose to me?"

"Er... yes?"

His gaze flicks up now, and one eyebrow rises high. "...You wanted to propose on the _Wounded Coast_ , of all places?"

"...Yes." And before Anders can open his mouth again, Hawke elaborates. "I thought... maybe a bit of celebratory bandit-slaying? Yes? No? Maybe?"

It's Anders' turn to laugh, now, and he shakes his head and reaches forwards to squeeze Hawke's hands in his own. The ring is a heavy weight on his hand, but it's a grounding force and already he loves it. "We _really_ need to work on your idea of a romantic gesture."


	2. Beginning - Nathaniel/Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **2\. Beginning**
> 
> _Anders decides that attachments may not be so terrible after all._

It isn’t as though he'd planned for this.

He'd joined the Wardens because it had been the best out of two bad choices, not because he'd felt a calling (though now he does, _literally_ , and isn’t that ironic). But the more time passes, the more his fellow Wardens become the family Anders barely remembers ever having. He doesn’t really know what to make of it.

Doesn’t know what to make of _Nathaniel_ , especially.

Anders has had crushes before, certainly, but not like this. Not without the oppressive weight of the metaphorical chain around his neck, and the hopelessness that came with the knowledge that no mage under Templar rule could ever find true solace in another without the risk of losing everything dear to them.

It's still so easy, sometimes, to forget that he's free of that now.

But with freedom comes a new problem, in that he isn’t quite sure how to go about starting something with someone who wasn’t raised with the Circle's unspoken rules. Nathaniel thinks him crude on the best of days, and his more subtle attempts at flirting seem to be mistaken for a joke. It certainly makes Anders _feel_ like a joke, because Andraste's flaming knickers he's supposed to be _good at this._

Sigrun thinks it's hilarious. Justice thinks he should be worrying about more important things. The Warden-Commander is terrifying, and Anders hasn't bonded with any of the others, so there's no one he could ask even should his pride allow it. Which means he's a decade late trying to figure this out on his own, the _normal_ way. Whatever 'normal' even means among a group of misfits like them, but anything has to work better than his failed attempts thus far.

It isn't until one particularly warm night late in the summer - it's _someone's_ nameday, probably, Anders hadn't really been paying attention beyond knowing there was a good excuse to get drunk and make bad decisions - when he follows Nathaniel outside to enjoy the air that it occurs to him; maybe the best way is just the _simplest_ way. Never mind that it's just as likely - more, maybe - to get him punched as it is to get him what he wants.

For a while, they just stroll the grounds and talk.

And it's _nice_ , getting to really talk to him, even if it's little more than a stall for time while Anders works up the nerve to do what he's daydreamt about doing for months now. They'd had strong Dwarven ale shipped in for the celebration and Anders is at least three tankards in, though it might actually be four. He has no idea how much Nathaniel's had, but the rogue is noticeably more relaxed and open than usual, and Anders takes it as a good sign. A _hopeful_ sign.

That he's hoping at all would scare him any other day; he's _invested_ now, irrevocably so, and being invested means that it'll be that much harder for him to leave when the time comes. That's been the plan from the start, after all. He'd never intended to _stay_.

He doesn’t realize that he's missed a question until he looks up and sees Nathaniel watching him, expectant and maybe a little concerned, though Anders tells himself that last part is just wishful thinking. They've stopped walking now and he shakes his head, and doesn’t even bother trying to play it off or get the other man to repeat himself. Instead, he simply blurts out, "I'm not joking, you know."

"What?" Nathaniel asks in return, blinking as he no doubt tries to comprehend just how and why the conversation got turned around on him.

"I'm not _joking_ , Nate," Anders tells him again, and now he steps closer, suddenly, right into the archer's space. To his credit, Nathaniel doesn’t step back. "I've never been joking, not with you."

And before he can lose his nerve, Anders kisses him. It isn’t the sort of kiss they'd write about in fairytales; it's clumsy, it tastes like ale, their teeth knock together one too many times, and Nathaniel doesn’t even kiss _back_. But he does settle a hand on the back of Anders' neck, keeping him close when the mage, feeling defeated, tries to pull away.

"...Not joking, huh?" he murmurs softly, voice rough in a way that always sends shivers down Anders' spine-- now more than ever. They're not looking at each other, but Nathaniel's thumb is brushing over the skin of Anders' neck, and then he gives it a gentle squeeze.

It should feel like a cage, however gilded. Like just another end to his latest in a long line of attempts at freedom.

Instead, it feels like it could be a beginning.


End file.
